Nobody's Chasing
by Funky In Fishnet
Summary: Having finished his latest mission, Bond is looking for company and distraction but everyone seems to have dates and better offers.


_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing._

* * *

Bond smiled when exiting M's office. He'd retrieved the flashdrive and subsequently a good handful of enemy operatives had been delivered to somewhere very secure, almost all in talking condition. M hadn't had much to complain about; though he had mentioned property damage and misappropriation of agency funds as well as several broken jaws. He'd been unable to completely deny that the mission had been a success though.

Now, Bond was left with an excess of adrenaline and not only was it the low-candle end of the day with no missions on offer to occupy his attention, but Alec was out of town and even Bond's usual haunts were closed up at this hour. M had reminded Bond about his mandatory psychological evaluation but it was always too late in the day for that. Bond wondered if Lois from the second floor was still free tonight.

Moneypenny was preparing to leave as well, pulling a coat on over a dress the colour of red wine. She hadn't been wearing _that_ when Bond had arrived for his meeting. The small vase of flowers decorating her desk had been present before, though Bond noted now that their jewel tones complimented her dress well. One of the buds was pinned to Moneypenny's coat. Someone was being very considerate and detailed. Moneypenny met Bond's appreciative gaze with one shaded with amusement. She was a lot more open than most at this level but M still kept her at his door.

She was off duty now. And Bond knew where to get a bottle of wine to match her dress.

"Someone special in mind?" he asked.

"Yes," replied Moneypenny simply, picking up her handbag.

Bond's smile increased a fraction. Really. This was almost better than an evening out with Moneypenny. So he waited with a loaded tried and tested patience. But Moneypenny merely swept her hair away from the trap of her coat collar and checked her watch – a slim gold model, certainly new. She tucked her hand into a pocket before Bond could reach for a better look.

His smile increased again and Moneypenny smiled slightly in return, as though they were sharing a joke. She didn't say a word. Someone very special then. Still.

"It's been a long day, and I happen to have a-."

"Moneypenny, could you...still here, Bond? I thought you were too busy to stay a moment longer for a psychological debrief?"

M appeared in his office doorway, carrying his briefcase, eyeing Bond as though measuring him for something. Bond now wore a very different smile, the kind he often employed in M's presence, one that meant and gave nothing. M returned the expression and exited his office, locking it neatly behind him. He looked past Bond to Moneypenny.

"No changes to tomorrow morning?"

"None, sir."

M nodded and retrained his focus on Bond while Moneypenny left with only the faintest amusement on her face, absolutely directed at Bond. Apparently the date she'd set was much more enticing than anything Bond had been about to offer her.

"Really, 007, if you're haunting the hallways past my office hours, you're in need of more than one in-house debrief."

That was M's parting shot as he left. He didn't comment on the prominent flowers on Moneypenny's desk or even glance at them. What kind of lecture had he given Moneypenny about relationships and the service? And who was it who could gain Moneypenny's full attention when Bond couldn't?

* * *

Bond practically bumped into Bill Tanner, who was on his way out of his office. He seemed preoccupied but surprised to see Bond. It seemed to be the night for it; that and everyone leaving MI:6 with plans that Bond didn't have.

"James, don't tell me you're doing late night filing?"

Bond steadied Bill with an easy hand and a wry smile. "I was hoping Lois would help me but the only offer I've had is a psychological consult."

"Ah, the debrief went well with M?"

"The case is closed."

Bill smiled as though he'd heard many of the words Bond hadn't said. They'd worked together for a number of years and had established an easy working relationship, as easy as it could be when Bill worked so very directly for M. But he made no apologies for that and enjoyed his job. Bond only had to think of a week behind a desk and it made him flinch.

"I'm sure M will have something for you tomorrow, James. You know how much he hates idle agents."

Those had been M's exact words only last week, in addition to more four letter words and a lot less patience. That had been a good day, a good distraction from the monotony caused by a lack of mission. Q had locked Bond out of Q Division that week; his minions had refused to budge for Bond, even Caris who had been very responsive before.

"But I'm afraid I have nothing for you and I have a restaurant booking to make," Bill continued.

He was adjusting his tie, his wedding ring on display. But over half the service wore wedding rings as part of a permanent cover for work. Not that Bond had ever had any use for that kind of disguise, not many Double-0s did.

Bill noticed the direction of Bond's gaze and smiled with amusement, "There's a photo of us on my desk. You couldn't have missed it when you were snooping last week."

Bond liked to keep on top of what upper management weren't telling him. He made no apologies for that. He remembered the photo; he hadn't taken much notice of window dressing that could have easily been misdirection. Something else many in the service partook in. So Bill was actually married, and not for Queen and country either. That was, while not unheard of, unusual to say the least.

Did M know? Bill clearly didn't think of it as a secret with the casual way he'd just announced it to Bond, as though it was old news. But it wasn't to Bond. First Moneypenny, now this. It was beginning to feel like a very personal pattern. It was rare, in Bond's experience, for him to miss out on so much. It was suspicious to say the least. How much more was being hidden from him?

Bill had already left, before Bond could even make the attractive offer of a night of cards and whisky (like the bottle kept in Bill's desk). Bond hadn't been able to ask him who Moneypenny might be spending intimate time with either. He stepped into Bill's office and took another look at the framed photograph tucked in beside a clipboard. It had clearly been taken at a formal occasion; Bill was in a suit and his wife was wearing a purple dress with matching earrings. She reminded Bond of half a dozen women he'd met in all kinds of places, both in and out of work. Not someone he would have picked out of a crowd.

For the second time that evening, Bond was left with the feeling that someone was going to have a very good night while he wasn't.

* * *

Bond was no longer locked out of Q Branch and if anyone was likely to both be working late and know details about both Bill and Moneypenny that Bond didn't, it was Q. The whole area was quieter than Bond was used to; one or two underlings were still present, working at computers with furrowed brows and earpieces in.

Q's office was filled with light and some kind of dance music, oddly enough, played at a tolerably low volume. There was Q, pulling on a lumpily-knit jumper and humming under his breath, a strange little smile on his face. This was getting to be an epidemic.

Bond paused in the doorway, watching Q not absorbed by technology, for once.

"I hear Moneypenny's spending her evenings with someone special," Bond opened with.

Q turned sharply and tapped a device that cut the music off immediately. His demeanour was suddenly far too business-like.

"No, OO7, I will not assist you in spying on Eve or divulge any information that I may or may not know about who she spends her evenings with."

His tone was flat but Bond knew exactly what wasn't being said – Q knew the identity of Moneypenny's mystery. He smiled but Q was already grabbing a laptop bag and rucksack.

"Anyway, I have plans."

"With or without your pyjamas?"

There was Q's strange little smile again, it seemed taken by satisfaction now too. "That depends on my company."

Q was expecting company; the kind that made him look the way that green microchip had last month. It did nothing for Bond's mood and it didn't alleviate his suspicions. He silently gritted his teeth.

"Did you know Bill was married?" he asked, his tone smoothed-out-genial.

Q shot him a familiar amused look as he closed down numerous computer systems. "I helped them buy their house. I had dinner with them last Monday."

Q was social with Bill and his wife, and probably with Moneypenny and whoever she spent her evenings with and with whoever else was having an extraordinary dating life in MI:6. Bond wouldn't be surprised if Q had everything recorded on a spreadsheet somewhere and well, if Q was leaving...

Q put on his duffel coat and slung on his rucksack with the air of someone used to it being much heavier. He ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it almost passably as he addressed Bond again.

"Unless you want to be locked in here with the laser security system, then I suggest you leave."

At least it would be good exercise. Alec would have a field day when he heard about this; once he got back from his New Zealand mission, lucky bastard.

"So does your company wear pyjamas when conquering the world too?" Bond pressed, casually.

Q hit a sequence of buttons by the door, closing it once he heard a low chime. "We take turns."

"Sharing absolute power. I wonder how you settle your differences."

It was meant to draw Q out; to gain information or perhaps lead Q to cancel his plans so that Bond would have someone to spar with, at least verbally. He knew how to use tone of voice, body language, personal space. They were as much a part of his arsenal as any gun and just as effective. He'd gotten information out of any number of colleagues who weren't supposed to be telling him anything. But Q just looked amused and, alarmingly, patronising.

"Both in and out of our pyjamas, OO7."

Bond's expression didn't alter but Q still laughed as though it had, a world of private jokes packed into his expression that he didn't explain at all. He looked like he was enjoying himself, checking his bags a final time before leaving.

"And stop snooping through Eve's personal life or you'll find yourself unable to leave your flat tomorrow morning."

With that, Q was gone, his smugness and anticipation obvious in every line of his posture. Bond stared after him. He was alone in Q Branch now, the remaining minions had left. It was possible he was alone in the entire building.

This was...it was as though someone had engineered the most perfect frustrating scenario for Bond, right when he needed it least. If he did start looking at files, he would probably find someone on the enemy list who would fit. It would be a relief.

He emerged from Q Branch and had reached the upper levels again when Lois rushed past, wearing expensive perfume and new lipstick.

"Oh James, Ron said you were looking for me. I'm so sorry, I can't help tonight. Can it wait until tomorrow?"

Bond looked her up and down, his mood getting worse, invisible to her eyes. "Don't tell me you've had a better offer."

Lois smiled, full of anticipation. "I'll let you know."

And she was gone with a tantalising wave of her fingers. Too many people were leaving Bond like that. The gym, he knew from experience, would be no good. At this hour he might be able to find somewhere – the sort of boxing event that was highly illegal, for example – that might sate him but he knew from experience that M wouldn't give him any missions if he arrived the next day in the sort of condition he was likely to be in, even if he did pass his physical. M was far from logical sometimes.

There were other...establishments but there was something gnawing away at Bond now, something that actually wouldn't let him leave. Bill had that good whisky hidden in his desk. His files or those Moneypenny likely kept, might give Bond what he needed. And if not, there was always M's office. Bond didn't have bad nights like this. He refused to.

 _-the end_


End file.
